"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." - Oscar Wilde

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Thoughts on a Sunday

I've been thinking today, something I don't usually do on Sundays. I woke up sweating this morning (again). Not sure why, but I've been suffering from night sweats since I got here. Anyways, I checked the time and realized I hadn't slept as late as I had wanted. I was hot, sticky, and felt that familiar achy yearning in my chest. Today is the first time I've felt homesick in awhile, and I'm not sure what triggered it.

I started thinking about home, about what it would be like to walk around Asheville in a few months. What comparisons would I make between there and France? How much would I miss France? How much would I miss my family? I imagined sitting in Karpen Hall, thinking about how far away my French family was, how I might not see them again (international travel always leaves a sense of finality.) and I grew sad. Sad before I realized I was laying in bed only several feet away from Berry's room. Yes, I'm here now.

I remember weeping the day I left the States, and my dad said, "Gabi, I know you're crying now, but you know what? In June, you're gonna be crying to leave." And I can sense the truth in this. When I left Italy last summer, I bawled for hours the night before. It's like leaving a fairy tale. And the more I think about leaving France, the more I think my transition back home is going to be incredibly difficult. I have so much me time here, but I'm going to be thrown into a horrible semester when I return. A senior class double major = two senior dissertations, one in French, one 20-pager in English. How can I deal with my numerous responsibilities on top of being torn away from France, the trip I had dreamt about forever?!

God, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Several months ahead. But thinking like this helps me realize how lucky I am to be here and how I need to enjoy every minute, like the ones I'm about to share with my family when I eat croque-monsieurs with them tonight.

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